Blest ornament! how happy is thy snare,
To bind the snowy finger of my fair!
O, could I learn thy nice concise art,
Now, as thou bind’st her fingers, bind her heart.
Not Eastern diadems like thee can shine,
Fed from her brighter eyes with beams divine;
Nor can their mightiest monarch’s power command
So large an empire as my charmer’s hand.
O, could thy form thy fond admirer wear,
Thy very likeness should in all appear;